End of the Day
by Tasermon's Partner
Summary: Sometimes, at the end of the day, if I'm done with my chores and my studies, and it's Twilight's turn to cook dinner, I like to sit quietly on the front stoop of the library and think about things.
AN: Apparently, I've gone pony. This is my first My Little Pony fic, so any praise or constructive criticism is welcome! This is based on, of all things, an old Sesame Street bedtime story from when I was younger. It's told from Spike's perspective, and takes place back when they lived in the Golden Oaks Library.

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 _Sometimes, at the end of the day, if I'm done with my chores and my studies, and it's Twilight's turn to cook dinner, I like to sit quietly on the front stoop of the library and think about things._

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The shadow of the large tree that makes up my home stretches out in front of me, highlighting the dusky atmosphere of the twilight hour. The stoop is really only two small steps, carved out from the tree's roots and worn smooth from the hooves of countless ponies, but they still have some grainy texture to them, and the way the shadows lay over them kinda reminds me of an accordion at times.

Soon the streetlights are lit, and I can see tiny bugs hovering around them. I wonder if the bugs were there the whole time, and I just didn't notice them in the full light of Celestia's day, or if they just emerged from the fields and gardens when the lamps came on, drawn to the lights like some kinda hypnotic siren's call? Maybe it's both. Or maybe it's neither.

I'm sure if I asked Twilight, or maybe Fluttershy, that they'd know the answer. But that's okay. I kinda prefer just thinking about stuff sometimes, even if I don't really want to know the answer. That way, I can just sit on the stoop at the end of the day and wonder about things.

I hear parents calling to their children to stop playing and come inside.

"Dinky, time for dinner!" calls out Derpy Hooves to her daughter. The young grey unicorn foal departs from her friends and trots happily home.

"Rumble!" calls out Thunderlane, the pegasus foal's older brother, and the two siblings soon fly away, towards the other side of town.

Likewise, the Cutie Mark Crusaders look ready to part ways, chatting on their plans to meet up and try to earn their cutie marks tomorrow, no doubt.

"Sw-eee-tie Bell-eee," Rarity's voice rings out on the wind, from the direction of the boutique, out-of-sight. I almost hope that Sweetie Belle doesn't go in right away, just so I can hear Rarity's angelic voice call out again. But alas, she waves goodbye to Apple Bloom and Scootaloo and happily gallops home, the other two fillies doing the same.

It's actually really nice that everyone lets their kids play around town and in the fields like that. Back in Canterlot, foals usually weren't allowed to just wander the streets and trusted to return home safe before dark. Good ol' Ponyville.

The voices of parents and older siblings calling out is soon replaced with the soothing melody of Octavia practicing her cello from her open window, mixing in with dying harmonies of the song-birds and the rising chorus of the chirping night-time insects. On Mondays, when Octavia is practicing a new song, she plays slowly, and sometimes makes a mistake or two. But by Friday, she can always play the song all the way through without any mistakes at all, no matter how complex it is.

Her roommate Vinyl usually practices during the middle of the day instead, since her louder and more energetic music doesn't mesh quite as nicely with the relaxed and mellow rhythms of the late hour. Sometimes the two practice together though, and you wouldn't think that a classical cellist and a modern pop-DJ would make very harmonious music together, but they really can.

I turn slightly to see Mister Davenport at the end of the street, turning out the lights and closing up the Quills and Sofas store. I wonder if he did much business today? He really does sell more than just sofas and quills, I know. He actually sells all types of furniture and stationary supplies. Twilight sends me over at least once or twice a week for more ink or parchment. He turns the "OPEN" sign over to "CLOSED" and locks the door. When he sees me sitting on the stoop, he waves, and I wave back.

I lean back a bit and look up at the darkening sky through the leaves and branches of my tree-home. When I see the first star of the evening, I close my eyes tight and make a wish. Maybe Luna will fulfill it? When I open my eyes again, there is another star. And another and another. Soon there will be so many, I won't be able to count them all.

As Celestia lowers the sun below the horizon, I begin to feel cool. Now it's time for all the plants and creatures on the other side of the world to have _their_ turn with the sun. Huh…I wonder if there's another alicorn on the other side of the world that takes the sun from Celestia and raises it up over _there_?

"Spike, come on in! I've got dinner ready!"

Maybe next time. There's always time to think about these things when you sit on the stoop at the end of the day.


End file.
